


Breathe

by neversaydie



Series: alright now [1]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Closeted Character, College, M/M, Secret Relationship, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, sammy vs his self esteem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 19:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14678247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: "Babe," Jack sounds breathless, which isn't unusual these days. "What does a panic attack feel like?"He's hovering in the bathroom door, holding himself gingerly and leaning heavily on the doorframe. Sammy wipes the last of the shaving cream off his face and comes over, resisting the urge to touch in case that makes it worse."Did you just put your binder on?" He's not surprised when Jack nods, with the way he's got a hand under the side of his shirt like he's trying to hold the elastic away from his ribs. "Can you take it off?"[in which Jack is a stubborn little shit, Sammy tries to be helpful, and there are dorks in love.]





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> beginning of an AU feat. trans Jack, since it kept being requested. 
> 
> spoiler: I am A Trans with a lot of bitching to do.

"Babe," Jack sounds breathless, which isn't unusual these days. "What does a panic attack feel like?"

He's hovering in the bathroom doorway, holding himself gingerly and leaning heavily on the scratched door frame. Sammy wipes the last of the shaving cream off his face and comes over, resisting the urge to touch in case that makes it worse.

"Did you just put your binder on?" He's not surprised when Jack nods, with the way he's got a hand under the side of his shirt like he's trying to hold the elastic away from his ribs.  "Can you take it off?"

"And miss out on all the fun?" Jack quips dryly, and Sammy only just resists the urge to kiss him on the cheek because he's a fucking dork even when he looks ready to faint. There's no colour in his face at all, which could be mental or physical. "Nah, I've gotta leave in ten. And I  _ kinda  _ need to breathe before then."

"Go sit down for a sec," Sammy shoos him away to the couch and grabs his vaguely-smart button up from the radiator, pulling it on as he follows. They've both got class this morning, but his presentation on postwar radio advertising is the last thing on his mind right now.

Jack's binders don't really fit anymore, is the issue. It's been increasingly apparent over the last couple of months, as the tough elastic sitting wrong on his chest has led to shortness of breath, more pain than usual, and these physical anxiety spikes. He stubbornly refuses to buy new ones because he's saving up for surgery, and he  _ still  _ insists on playing rugby despite the fact he's trying to run around with half his lung capacity being crushed out of his chest.

Sammy would think his boyfriend was an idiot (more than usual) if he didn't admire him so much. Jack's never let any limitation stop him from doing what he wants… Even if it's not always the most comfortable option.

"Remember to get your shoulders back," a lifetime of hunching over habitually has led Jack to have terrible posture habits, and Sammy gently reminds him when he sees his boyfriend slumped into himself on the couch. Jack's fully dressed for class and has already put wax in his sandy hair - he must have waited as long as possible to put what he un-affectionately calls his 'torture implement' on.  "Do you think it's anxiety for real?"

"The fuck should I know? You're the panic expert here," Jack really does sound breathless under his grumpiness, and Sammy sits down beside him as he puts his face in his hands. "I don't think I'm worried about anything... but it feels like the walls are closing in and something terrible is about to happen."

"Yeah, with impending doom I'm gonna say that's breathing restriction," after shooting Jack a questioning look for permission, Sammy lifts up the edge of his boyfriend's shirt a little to get a look at the issue. "Jesus, Jack.  You only just put it on? That's gonna bruise."

The elastic is already chafing his skin, if the angry redness starting to bloom is anything to go by, and Sammy can see where it's sitting wrong as Jack forces himself to take a deep breath against the compression. As far as he's aware, he and Lily are the only ones allowed to see Jack like this, and he takes that for the expression of trust it is.

"Can I…?" He carefully pulls the binder into a slightly different place after Jack nods. "You folded it over too much at the bottom again."

"I know how to dress myself," Jack grumbles, but breathes a little easier when the harsh edge is sitting under his ribcage rather than directly on it. Sometimes it helps to have another set of eyes on things, especially when one pair is too busy feeling like the room is getting smaller to take a rational look at the issue.

"See if that helps," Sammy rests his hand on the back of Jack's neck and casually strokes his thumb over the steadily slowing pulse as Jack calms down. He's all too familiar with anxiety swells, even if his aren't sparked by a physical cause. "I'll walk to class with you."

"I don't need a babysitter," Jack rolls his eyes but doesn't protest further… which is enough to convince Sammy that he's still feeling a little fragile, not that he'd admit to it. Neither of them are particularly good at showing vulnerability, but they manage make it work, mostly.

"Hey, who's gonna keep my ego in check if you pass out and fall off a cliff or something?" Sammy heaves himself off the couch with an exaggerated groan and offers Jack a hand up, which he takes mainly so he can pull Sammy down for a kiss.

"Not a whole lot of cliffs on my route, but I appreciate the sentiment," he's a lot cheerier now he's getting a decent amount of oxygen, colour working its way back into his permanently tanned cheeks, and Sammy can't help taking a second to just watch Jack be  _ Jack  _ as he gets his stuff together for class.

Sammy… may be extremely gone for this dude. They haven't said 'I love you' yet, but even with his chronic emotional constipation he can tell that's where this is heading. All Jack's little foibles and quirks only seem to make Sammy love him more… and the fact he's heart-eyed watching Jack sloppily shove his sneakers on without untying the laces says enough.

"You gonna carry my books too?" Jack raises an eyebrow when he catches Sammy staring like an idiot.

"Uh, no," he tries to recover from the blush which heats up across his ears at being seen making googly eyes, but it's not exactly smooth. "You're carrying mine. You know I only keep you around for the heavy lifting."

"I mean, I do have more muscles in my little finger than you have in your entire noodly body," Jack agrees thoughtfully, ducking the smack Sammy tries to deliver to the back of his head. "Grab your shit then, I gotta go."

It's a beautiful day, the kind of warm, late-spring morning which suggests it's going to be hellishly hot by noon, and Sammy wishes they could hold hands in the sunshine like some of the other couples they pass as they get near campus. It's a mutual decision to keep their relationship a secret for now (given Sammy is terrified of coming out and Jack gets enough stupidly intrusive questions without adding a sex life into the mix), but sometimes it stings to not be able to just  _ be  _ like everyone else.

Hell, even Lily and Alice hold hands on campus, and they've been dating for about five minutes and are  _ disgustingly  _ affectionate regardless of where they are. But then neither of them are closet cases like Sammy, who feels intense guilt over giving Jack another layer of things to worry about. His boyfriend doesn't have the option of the closet, is forced to be out just by walking around looking like himself, and it's a constant battle for Sammy to hide how much he hates himself for not having that kind of courage. 

Along with all the other reasons he has to hate himself, of course. But listing them would take too long, so he tries to avoid it whenever possible

"You're thinking too loud," Jack nearly nudges him off the sidewalk with the force of his hip check, because Sammy is a weed no matter how much he tries to deny it. All he's got on Jack is height… and all that does it make it easier to overbalance him. "What's up?"

"Presentation," Sammy mutters, because he tries to keep his angst to himself when he can. Jack squints at him suspiciously behind his douchey sunglasses (knock-off fake Ray Ban aviators he insists are chic, but mainly make him look like a teenage bro) but doesn't question the lie. "You feeling better now?"

"Yeah. I should've realised what it was when my hands went tingly, I'm a dumbass," he shakes his head and reaches over to squeeze Sammy's bicep, quick enough to look friendly to the casual observer. "What would I do without you, huh?"

"Jerk off more?" Sammy shrugs, feigning ignorance, and laughs when Jack actually does shove him off the sidewalk this time. "At least you're gonna push me into traffic  _ before  _ I've gotta stand up in front of Williams and talk about old-timey toothpaste jingles."

"You'll be great. You're good at that boring shit, you always make it funny," they linger on the corner of University Avenue, where Jack needs to turn left to get to his tech seminar and Sammy has to head straight on for the library. "Thanks for coming in early with me."

"Any time. I gotta keep my best jar-opener alive," Sammy flushes when Jack hands him his rucksack with a little smirk, because of  _ course  _ he had to make good on his dumb book carrying joke. "You training tonight?"

"I'll be back around seven," Jack nods, and Sammy would consider asking him to take the night off and give his ribs a break if they weren't in public. That's the caveat for a lot of things in their relationship, much to Sammy's guilt. Even if it's a mutual decision, he still feels like it's all his fault they can't live openly. "You're thinking again, dipshit. I promise I'll take it easy."

"Maybe I was making a complicated shopping list, you don't know," his indignance makes Jack laugh, which always cheers Sammy up no matter what the circumstances. "Go to class, dumbass."

"And he's a poet, I'm so proud," Jack squeezes Sammy's arm again in lieu of a goodbye kiss and walks off, quickly disappearing into the crowd of students hurrying to get to their next class.

Sammy needs to get to the library and prep for his presentation, but he also needs to take a minute to recalibrate after being struck by another wave of affection for his tiny, stupid boyfriend. The fact their mutual struggles don't knock them sideways, as long as they're together, makes Sammy's chest hurt in a way he can't define… but is pretty sure is that  _ love  _ thing he's heard so much about. Maybe he'll end up saying it, one day.

He watches after Jack for a while, weirdly feeling as if he's the one who can't breathe this time. 


End file.
